


oh my gosh, they were roommates

by fangirls5ever



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alya is the perfect wingman, Bi!Luka, College!AU, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Gen, Light Angst, Nino and Luka would absolutely bond over a love of music, Self-Indulgent, Very fluffy, college student!au, graphic art student!Marinette, roommates au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-04-16 13:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14165502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirls5ever/pseuds/fangirls5ever
Summary: In which Alya, Nino, Marinette, and Luka share an apartment, longtime crushes are questioned, and new relationships are formed.---Lukanette and DJWifi college au





	1. Year 2, Spring Quarter

Marinette’s life ends during Spring Quarter, when she’s just finishing up the last few projects for her second year at Roman University, best friend and roommate Alya sprawled on the red-black spotted bed beside her. The brown-haired girl keeps up a steady stream of conversation as Mari works, throwing in a fair amount of sarcasm into the stories about their classmates. She makes sure to roll her eyes especially hard when the one in question is Chloe, her much-hated business partner.

“So,” Alya says casually, painting a thick coat of peach nail polish across her thumb as she brings her tale of Nino’s latest adventures in Walmart to a close, “I was thinking about next year…”

Marinette gives a hum of assent, clicking Photoshop on her computer and slurping noodles from the bowl of instant ramen cradled in her lap. “And?” she asks around a mouthful, gaze fixed on her screen as a model appears onscreen. Vague lines about it suggest a long, flowing dress, three slashes of color to the side of the palette. Marinette stuffs a bite of ramen in her mouth, and Alya rolls her eyes as the blue-haired girl gazes intently at the model, clearly occupied. May as well just rip off the bandage.

“I think I’m going to room with Nino,” Alya says.

Marinette chokes on her instant noodles.

Covering her mouth with one painted hand, Alya snickers as Marinette wheezes, swallowing the last of the ramen and taking a deep breath as she shoves aside her now broth-and-noodle-speckled laptop. “What?” she croaks, turning wide, fearful eyes on her best friend. Alya works hard to stifle a cackle, eyes again casually on the bottle of peach nail polish in one hand. Marinette breathes in deeply one more time, looking up at the oddly-stained ceiling as though the brown water marks running across it hold the answers she so desperately needs. “Alya,” Marinette starts weakly, reaching out a tentative hand to rest on her friend’s shoulder. “I mean… I’m really happy for you, then.” She sniffs, voice growing thick as she adds, “Really.”

Alya’s heart twinges just the slightest, laughter fading, and she shakes her head, blowing out an exasperated breath. “Marinette—”

“Thank you for giving me the warning, I’ll definitely have the time to find a new roommate next year—”

“Marinette.”

“—and even if they’re not you—“

“Mari,” Alya says, reaching up with her unpainted hand to grip the blue-haired girl’s chin and turning it to face her. Marinette blinks wide eyes at her, a familiar sheen starting to appear across them that makes Alya’s stomach twist. She feels her smile soften just a fraction. “Mari, Nino’s going to be renting an apartment again with a friend from his music class. Two of the people living there now are on their last year—they won’t be here next year, and Nino’s looking for people to replace them. And I was thinking—”

Alya pauses here, huffing as she looks around their dorm. While Roman University doesn’t have the worst dorms exactly… the accommodations leave a lot to be desired. The drains in the shared showers clog easily from all the hair, making the bathrooms flood easily, and the sinks in the dorm rooms either spit out water straight from the Arctic or hell. There is no in-between. Add in the one painfully small, dusty window with its prison-style bars, thin walls, and the tap-dancing students living one room above, and suddenly another year in the dorms begins to look quite bleak—disastrous, even.

Alya will do anything to prevent that. 

“There’s room for both of us, Mari,” she says, words coming faster as she feels the familiar rush of excitement accompany the thought of a new dorm, a new space. “The apartment is a little bit off campus, but it has separate rooms—separate rooms—and a small kitchen, two bathrooms…” Alya casts a quick glance at her friend, noting her disbelieving stare. She definitely needs to change tactics. “And,” she adds, expression sly as she leans in, “we would be closer to the fabric store.”

Marinette reacts at last to this, breath hitching just the slightest as she shifts in closer. Her blue eyes narrow a shade as she watches Alya carefully. “Close?” she echoes.

Alya nods empathetically. “Very close,” she insists.

Falling silent, Marinette looks down to where her hands rest on her lap, computer screen dimming where it sits at her side, project long since forgotten. “I don’t even know Nino’s roommate,” she says quietly. “And besides, you two are dating now. Wouldn’t it be weird to have me there?”

Alya doesn’t hesitate to take Marinette’s hand, flashing the girl a warm smile. “Mari, you were my best friend long before I started dating Nino.” She tilts her head to the side. “I’d choose you every time, you know that, right?”

Marinette looks up shyly, mouth curling at the edges. “Promise?” she asks.

“Promise.”

Her gaze drops again to their clasped hands, brow furrowing as she considers it. After a long moment, she nods. 

“Okay.”


	2. Year 3—Start

The start of third year finds an anxious Marinette pacing in front of apartment 4B, gaze flitting between the luggage loaded in her car just a few feet away at the curb, and the metal knocker on the door. Faint strains of music can be heard from the apartment, and if she strains hard enough, she can just make out a few lines that sound suspiciously like “The Black Parade.”

“Come on, Mari,” she chides herself, taking a deep breath as she passes the door the twentieth time. “It’s not a big deal—Alya will be here in an hour with Nino, and you can just ignore the new guy until then. Separate rooms, remember? You don’t need to see him, you don’t need to talk to him. You only have to knock, unload your stuff, and hide in your room until everyone else is here.” Marinette slows her pacing until she stands in front of the door, wood planks of the wooden step before it creaking under her weight. “You can do this,” she breathes, and curls her hands into fists, one unclenching to slowly, slowly reach forward—

The door flies open, and Marinette jumps back with a squeak, hands shooting up to block her face as she flinches.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Marinette cracks one eye open, gaze sliding up to meet dark blue eyes. A boy dressed in black jeans and a matching black paint-spattered sweater stands in the open doorway, one hand up by his ear as he pulls off a set of headphones. “You okay?” he asks, eyes widening with concern.

Marinette opens her mouth, promptly closes it, and repeats the process three more times, unable to make a sound.

Before this, Mari had been prepared for the boy to be many, many things, mind leaping to the worst possibilities first—loud, sloppy, obnoxious, oblivious, rude. Really, she’d convinced herself she had thought out every scenario. But clearly, her summer-addled mind skipped over a few details when she’d played this out in her head.

Because she never thought that the boy being _cute _would be a problem.__

__

__Marinette, mind still moving blessedly slow, gapes at the boy as he stares back, blue eyes slowly losing their concern as they flick over to her luggage-filled car, brightening with understanding. “Oh, you must be the new roommate, right? Nino said you’d be getting here soon.” Holding out a hand, the boy grins, one cheek dimpling. “Luka Couffaine,” he offers. “Nice to meet you.”_ _

__

__Mind shifting to autopilot, Mari reaches out to take it mechanically, saying, “M-Marinette.”_ _

__

__His smile broadens, and he ducks his head, blue hair falling over his eyes. “Do you want a hand with your luggage? Nino and Alya have already staked out the best rooms, but I can show you to yours, if you want.” Luka waits a moment for Marinette to manage a short nod before stepping back, calling a bright, “This way,” over his shoulder as he moves out of the entrance. Marinette steps into the apartment cautiously, eyes flitting between the kitchen just to her left (small, with peeling yellow cabinets, a waist-high fridge, stove, and black toaster oven), before returning to where Luka stands to her right at the start of a short hallway a little ways into the kitchen._ _

__

__“Bedrooms are down here,” he says. “Living room is right there, across from the kitchen, and there’s two bathrooms—one off of the living room, and the other right between the four bedrooms along this hallway.”_ _

__

__Marinette blinks, nodding once as she says quietly, “Nice.”_ _

__

__Luka grins, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s not the best, but sure beats the dorms.” Gesturing to the door at the far end of the hall, he says, “That one’s yours—it’s right next to Alya’s.”_ _

__

__Marinette nods again, working to keep her voice steady. “Thank you.”_ _

__

__“No problem. Moving into a new place is always stressful.” Turning to face her fully, he asks, “Do you want some help bringing your stuff in from your car? I’d be glad to help.”_ _

__

__“N-no, that’s fine,” Marinette says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Quickly, she adds, “I’m stronger than I look.”_ _

__

__“Of course. Well, just call if you need me.” Luka gestures to the door just two away from hers, a crooked black star painted on its door, and adds, “Nino and Alya should be here soon, so you’ll probably be getting another tour with a bit more depth.”_ _

__

__Marinette gives him a small smile, mouth curling up at the edges. “I’ll look forward to it, then.”_ _

__

__Luka grins back, all ease as he says, “Nice meeting you, Marinette.”_ _

__

__“Same to you.”_ _

__

__Marinette waits until he’s vanished into his room to take in a deep breath, pressing her hands to her head. “That wasn’t so bad,” she murmurs to herself, trying to keep her tone light, encouraging. “See? You can do this. You can totally do this. Meeting new people is stressful, but you’re doing great. Just great.” Taking one last deep breath, she straightens, tucking a strand of errant blue hair behind her ear. “Well,” Mari mutters, “here goes nothing,” as she slowly turns to face the front door. With no small amount of trepidation, she heads out towards her car, muscles already aching at the prospect of unloading._ _

__

__It’s going to be a very long day._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luka Couffaine is a struggle to write... hopefully he isn't too out of character this chapter, I wasn't having a hard time figuring out dialogue and actions for him. I'm still trying to get a feel for his character from the show, so he might change a bit as the show reveals more on him. :)
> 
> Thank you guys so much for commenting on last chapter—I love hearing your thoughts! <3 The next one will probably be in about two weeks since I'm going to be pretty busy during this one—sorry for the slow updates :'D   
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!


	3. Mech Strike

Dropping the last box unceremoniously to the floor, Marinette dusts off her hands, leaning back and resting them on her hips. “Done,” she sighs, mentally patting herself on the back for such quick work. “Now all that’s left is to…” A second sigh escapes her as she looks around the crowded room with a critical eye. 

A smudged, fingerprint-stained window hangs opposite the door, punctures in the wall above it where the supports for curtains had been drilled in. Holes from pins and tacks are situated just above desk-level on almost all the walls, though Mari pays them little heed. (She has more than enough posters of a certain model to cover the room, floor to ceiling.) (And no, that isn’t obsession, it’s just—appreciation. Yes. One-hundred percent appreciation.) The room itself is a pale cream, brown carpet covering the floor and creeping an inch up the walls like moss. Stuffed with half-squished boxes, furniture frames, and jumbled art supplies, the room is a far-cry from the one over her parents’ bakery.

But unlike the room there, and even the dorm she’d shared with Alya, this space is entirely her own—and for now, that’s more than enough.

Humming cheerfully, Mari reaches down for the pet carrier by the door. A set of bright amber eyes watch her curiously from behind the bars, a sandpaper tongue darting out to lick the fingers that fiddle with the latch. Mari laughs, sliding the lock back with a _snick_. “Hi, Tikki,” she says, reaching in to rub the tortoiseshell’s ears. “Sorry you were in there so long.”

The cat pads out, fluffy tail held high, and brushes against her side, whole body rumbling as she purrs. Giving the red-brown cat one last affectionate pat, Mari slips her phone out of her pocket, eyes widening almost comically as she sees the time. “Alya and Nino said they were going to be here at seven—that was twenty minutes ago, I didn’t—“ She pales, pressing a hand to her mouth. “I didn’t just _walk right past them, right?”_

Tikki tilts her head to the side, making a soft, low noise as Mari frantically shoves the phone back in her pocket, the sound rising to a screech as Mari scoops her up with one arm and sprints out the door, barreling down the hallway. Sliding to a stop just before the kitchen entrance, Marinette’s eyes dart between the door, kitchen table, and living room, a long sigh escaping her when she finds the area almost blessedly empty.

“Thank goodness,” Mari breathes, tightening her grip on Tikki as the cat squirms. “Alya would have never let me live that down.”

Any sort of relief she feels at the realization, however, is cut short when, from the living room, she hears a concerned, “You okay?”

Day one, and Marinette already wants to die.

Or maybe just move to another continent, who knows?

Turning slowly, Tikki held up almost like a shield, Marinette meets Luka’s eyes reluctantly, noting the way his lips curl up in a half-smile, satisfied the situation is not the emergency it first appeared to be. _Play it cool, Mari,_ she coaches herself, inwardly shaking her head. _If it’s any consolation, it can only go up from here._ Taking a moment to breathe, Mari casts Luka a pained smile, gritting out, “Sorry. I just saw the time, and I figured I’d missed Nino and Alya while unpacking, or something.” Apparently deciding she hadn’t dug her grave deep enough yet, Mari forces out an awkward laugh, gaze fixed longingly on the relative safety of her room. While not necessarily the most introverted person, Mari has had more than enough of painful social encounters for the day—now, she just really wants to hide in her room and channel all her awkwardness away into sketching. A helpful solution? Perhaps not, but it’s certainly therapeutic.

Seemingly unaffected by the strained atmosphere, Luka’s smile widens, one cheek dimpling. “They’re probably running late—Nino’s GPS always makes him take the backroads.” Reaching onto the sofa beside him, Luka waves a silver gaming controller at her, adding, “I figured I’d play while waiting for them—do you want to join? I think I have at least four editions of Mech Strike, but not much else.”

Tikki makes a plaintive sound as Mari loosens her hold, death grip slowly decreasing. “Mech Strike?” she repeats, unable to keep the evident interest from her voice. The situation was awkward, yes, but were she to go back to her room… It would just be more unpacking. And after a long day of traveling to the campus, loading and unloading her car… Mari needs a break. Badly. “Y-you wouldn’t happen to have a second controller… would you?”

The blue-haired boy reaches over to the coffee table in front of him, sliding the drawer open and rifling through the magazines and CDs briefly, eyes brightening as he straightens to hold up a violet controller air. “Which color?” he asks, offering both for inspection.

Mari lowers Tikki to the ground, biting her lip as she watches the cat flick her tail and venture off towards the kitchen. “Either is fine,” she says, moving to sit beside him on the couch.

Luka nods, holding out the silver controller with a grin. “One-on-one?” he asks, TV screen lighting up as he leans forward to hit power on the remote. “I don’t think I’ve gotten all the way through story mode if you want to play through.”

“One-on-one.”

Luka nods again, flashing her a bright smile. “Nice.”

With a burst of triumphant music, the title appears onscreen, mechs posing and running through attacks as “MECH STRIKE 4000” is slowly spelled out in slashes of red-orange flame. Both Luka and Marinette hit start, skipping through the minute-long intro with a slight roll of their eyes, Luka commenting, “At least the theme is catchy.”

Mari snorts, but quickly disguises it as a coughing fit as Luka glances at her from the side, lips tilting up.

“You don’t think so?” he presses, curious.

Mari clears her throat, trying to keep her voice even as she says, “They’re just repeating one word over and over.”

“Yeah.” 

“It’s actually sixty-seconds of people saying ‘kill’ with different inflections.”

“… Yeah.”

Shaking her head, Mari shifts her gaze down to the controller, thumb rubbing at the peeling joystick. “Repetitive theme or not, the game is still good—ready to set up?”

Luka nods, navigating over to multiplayer battles. The screen is instantly covered in badly drawn flame, replaced just as quickly with the fighter roster. Luka glances over the fighters once before choosing a silver-blue mech, his avatar crouching with one fist clenched upon selection. “I used to think that was so cool when I was little,” he sighs, pressing one hand to his forehead as though the memory physically pains him.

Marinette manages a small smile as she chooses the ladybug-themed robot, watching as it leaps upward, one fist raised in triumph. “You were in good company,” she assures him, nodding when Luka gestures to the port stage. “It’s almost embarrassing how many ladybug themed things I kept even in middle school…”

Luka sighs, shaking his head. “It’s embarrassing how much of the merchandise I _still_ keep. Oh,” he says, eyes widening when the stage appears, two fighters standing at opposite sides of a rotting dock, “it’s starting already—it usually takes forever to load.”

“Maybe I’m just lucky,” Marinette says, but the words come out more like a question than a statement.

Luka grins, eyes fixed on the screen as the announcer starts the countdown. “Guess I’ll have to play this with you more often.”

Mari blinks, startled, but before she can respond, the announcer calls out a loud, “Fight!”

Pushing the conversation to the back of her mind, Mari focuses on going through the combinations, landing a strong uppercut on Luka’s mech and dancing back before he catches her with one in turn. As she darts back in to strike, Mari frowns, noting Luka’s choppy, unpredictable movements. The boy is trying to use a long-range attack on her from only a foot away. No logic can truly justify using a weaker, slower attack when your enemy’s actually three feet in front of you. It just doesn’t make any sense—everything’s wrong with it, unless, of course…

Clarity comes with widening eyes and a choked out, “No. _No._."

“What?” Luka asks as she whips about to face him, making an unintelligible noise as her gaze seizes on the way he holds the controller, the way he smashes aimlessly at the controls.

”You’re a _button masher_ ,” she forces out, sounding as though the words alone burn her.

Luka laughs, hitting the controls with his palm all the faster. “It’s the only way I can beat my sister and her girlfriend—every time I try combos, they knock me out in two seconds flat.”

Mari looks again to the screen, cringing at how Luka’s mech awkwardly stabs at the air as the ladybug fighter retreats a few steps, relatively unharmed during her revelation. Just a few well-timed hits, and she could easily win the fight, but… she can’t fight him like this. She _refuses_ to fight him like this. Button mashing is by no means a legitimate way to win a game.

“Which mech does your sister use?” she asks, watching the screen intently as Luka pauses, considering.

“Solid black.”

Specialty in defense—over all, a difficult opponent with its strong shielding techniques and decent attack, but still not impossible. “Ten minutes,” Mari says, “and I can teach you how to win against your sister.” 

A long silence follows her statement, and Mari can feel her newfound confidence begin to slip with each second that passes by. Why had she even offered? Mech Strike was probably an old obsession for him—not everyone was still stuck on it like she was. Honestly, why would she—

“Really?”

Marinette’s self-deprecating thoughts screech to a halt as she registers the word, looking at Luka out of the corner of her eye to find him gazing at her hopefully, controller held in one hand. “Really?” he repeats, excitement making the word come faster. “You can teach me? I mean, I’m horrible at the game, but I’ve always really loved it, and being able to beat Juleka—her expression would be priceless.” Shifting a bit closer, he leans in, eyes practically sparkling. “Where do we start?” he asks, and Mari swears the boy actually glows.

Forcing her gaze back to the controller in her lap, she clears her throat, blinking once, twice. “Just—ah—let’s head back to character select. Pick your favorite, and I’ll choose your sister’s mech.”

Luka complies, and soon, both stand again on the port stage, mechs at opposite ends, waiting even past the announcer’s booming, “Fight!”

Luka turns to face her, his usual warm smile brightened with an air of anticipation. “What’s first?”

Mari frowns, considering which actions to teach first. If he was button mashing, clearly he didn’t know any attacks, but if he wasn’t blocking either…

“Do you know shielding?” she asks.

Luka shakes his head, laughing quietly. “I’m actually the worst.”

“You’re going to do great,” Mari assures him, and she means it. Edging the slightest bit closer, she holds out her controller, saying, “Now, if you just hit down on the control pad like this… Now press B…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the update took so long :'D With school and finals, the next one will probably be over two weeks as well.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Any comments or suggestions would make me so happy—I read and write back on each one ^^
> 
> Tumblr @lukanette-fics

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter should have a lot of Luka in it (this fic is going to be 90% their interactions), so hopefully I'll write it within a week... but I have been procrastinating writing just about anything lately, so fingers crossed! ^^
> 
> Thank you so much for reading—any comments or critiques would definitely help keep up my motivation, as I'm not sure I actually have a lot on my own :'D Hope to see you next week! <3


End file.
